


Out Past the Stars

by archi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, BAMF Bobby, F/M, Happy Ending, Heaven, Homophobia, M/M, Major Character Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 22:57:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archi/pseuds/archi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Up or down. Dean figured it was a fifty-fifty shot, and finds himself profoundly grateful to land in the kitchen of the batcave. Cas is there, sitting on the counter. He’s not a memory, though, and he knows where to find Dean’s family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out Past the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning** : This story contains mentions and brief, non-graphic descriptions of suicide. 
> 
> The application in this story is what I felt was most true to the character. It is addressed, but it is not the main theme of this story.
> 
> My intention is **_not_** to romanticize suicide or undermine the struggles of those who consider, attempt, or have taken their own lives, or the struggles of those who outlive these individuals. 
> 
> Having lost a sibling to suicide and having considered it myself in darker times, I plead with anyone considering suicide to reach out by any means. You are loved, you are not alone.

“The hell?” Dean looked around the kitchen bunker, bemused.

“Dean, your vocabulary is sometimes stunningly inappropriate. 

Dean spun around to see Cas sitting on the counter, kicking his legs lightly against the cabinets.

“And I don’t mean the vulgarity, rather that it’s ironically inaccurate,”

“Cas...”

“Hello, Dean,” Cas smiled, sliding off the counter. “I know, I’m surprised to be here myself. I didn’t think I’d be allowed, after everything...” His head tilted and his eyes seemed to scour Dean, pushing past his skin with alarming levels of scrutiny. “You’re here too soon, Dean.”

Dean looked away, saw the fake credit card envelopes that littered the table, the plates that had been left out after dinner. He couldn’t answer, couldn’t meet that particular implied question.

“Dean...” Cas’ voice was just above a whisper. “You didn’t...”

“What was I supposed to do, Cas?” He looked up and nearly started when he found Cas standing directly in front of him. “Sammy was gone, and he offered to come back, but I couldn’t take it away from him, not when he’d settled down and gone back to school and found a girl...I tried, you know,” His voice cracked, “to get on, but you weren’t...”

Cas shuffled forward, and they were close, but not touching. Not yet.

“What about Charlie?”

“C’mon,” Dean shook his head, “I can’t call everyone else to babysit me just because you fly the coop.”

“Why not?” the jagged edge in his voice startled Dean enough to look up at Cas. “You give and give for everyone else and why can’t you, just _once_ , let them give back - _Dammit_ , Dean!”

Cas turned away, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“Are you looking for an apology?” Dean asked, throwing his hands up. “‘Cause you won’t get one from me.”

Cas turned back sharply, his eyes wild. “I’m looking for some indication that you didn’t forget that you’re worth something - That you didn’t...didn’t _kill_ yourself on the off chance that one or both of us _might_ make it here!”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Dean said coolly. “It’s done, Cas. Nothing to do about it now.”

“I know.” The fight had gone from Cas voice, and they surveyed each other warily for a few moments.

Then Dean shuffled his feet, looking around. “This your heaven or mine? You’ve got one, right?”

“As a human soul, I’m apparently entitled to one, yes,” Cas looked around, “But this is yours...though, it does bear striking similarities to my own.”

Dean smiled a little, glad to see the tense line easing out of Castiel’s shoulders.

“How long was it, for you?” Cas asked, rifling through the things on the table and organizing them into piles.

“Couple years,” Dean said, sitting down at the table and watching Cas’ hands.

Cas’ fingers hesitated on the edge of an envelope for just a moment, “What happened?”

“Sam offered to come back after the funeral, like I said...I told him to stay put. Charlie came for a few weeks, then back pretty often. I visited her, kept up with Kevin and Garth, took local cases and sometimes joined up with others for bigger ones, helped delegate the hunts out of the area...I didn’t just walk out back with my 1911 soon as you left, you know...I tried.”

“I know,” Cas said quietly, “I’m sorry to have assumed, please...” he gestured for Dean to continue.

Dean wet his lips and adjusted in the chair, “I guess I didn’t realize how much a part of me you were. So much of what I said to you wasn’t even in words...and nobody really got me like you, and I never understood anyone good as I could you...I always thought I was a big talker, you know?” he chuckled, looking over at Cas, maybe for reassurance he wasn’t dreaming, “But it was the _not_ talking that I really missed.”

Cas didn’t respond, just slid into the nearest chair. But he held himself just so - their knees, which had always brushed under the table in the real bunker - didn’t. Dean bit his lip.

“It felt less crazy to pretend when I was wasted,” he continued, clearing his throat to clear out the gruff note, “I found your piano music, got my hands on any recordings that I could find of the same songs and pretended like you were in the next room, playing away.” He studied his hands on the table and wondered why it seemed so impossible to reach over the few inches to Cas.

“Got in a pretty bad place. I stopped hunting around the time I started pouring whiskey over my cheerios. Once an drunk, always an drunk, I guess. The bunker was quiet, even fewer jobs than when you were around, and we all sort of spread out again. Except I was still there as everyone was going and finding their normal type lives...Then I realized - dammit, I _deserved_ to get out of this place! You know? If it didn’t have _you_ , it shouldn’t have me. We agreed to stick together and I had to keep my end up.

“So...I sobered up, got the batcave and everything in order, mailed out letters express so that my body wouldn’t stink up the place before they found me. Then, I mixed up my own special nightcap, and went to bed. Knocked me out, first, and I musta gone in my sleep...Got to see Tessa again,” he mused, “That was nice...can’t say she was thrilled to see me, but maybe it’s just getting old. At first I thought she wasn’t gonna take me - but I promised her it was the last time...Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” Cas looked up from fiddling with a loose thread on his cuff. His eyes were red-rimmed though no tears had found their way to his cheeks yet.

“I’m sorry...” Dean said, biting his lip, “I didn’t want to be strong, you know? I’ve watched people go and go and I’ve been strong and let them and...you said you wouldn’t leave again...so I..I’m sorry.”

Cas breathed in sharply, looking around as if for a distraction. Dean felt instantly guilty, and cleared his throat.

If the questions had sounded stupid in his mind, they sounded twice as stupid in his mouth; “How about you? How has it been up here?”

Cas sighed wearily, but Dean was grateful he didn’t push anymore. “My restraints are different, as a human. As an angel - before I was cut off - I could access the personal Heaven of every soul...I’ve had to find the loopholes in the system. I spent quite a bit of time looking for your family.”

“ _My_ family?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas said, “ _your_ family. It’s not as though I’m on speaking terms with mine. And, lest you forget, I am fond of them as well.”

“Who’d you find?”

“Bobby Singer, Ellen Harvelle and her husband, Jo and Ash. Pamela. Missouri Moseley passed away a few years ago. She says she knew you both. Rufus, other of your hunting comrades, and your parents. I’ve seen your grandfather Henry, though he doesn’t come around often. He and your father have some...unresolved issues. Anyway, they all gather at the Roadhouse - Ellen’s heaven. Though at this point it’s made of the afterlives they lead, not memories,” Cas smiled, “You have a very impressive family, Dean. I doubt the Angels even understand the methods they use to get around the rules.”

“You met my dad?” Something unpleasant was pinching at his stomach and he tried not to look too worried.

“Yes. We’ve spoken. He knows I was once an angel, that I pulled you from hell - Bobby gave me too much credit when he retold the failed apocalypse...I told him how I fell, how we hunted together, how I died...”

Dean’s throat was dry, “Did you happen to mention...?”

Cas just shook his head, “That’s your place to tell, only if you want,” Cas said. “I didn’t think it prudent to bring up without you.”

Dean exhaled, “I’m sorry...I just...”

“I understand,” Cas said softly, reaching over to place his hand over Dean’s.

Dean stared at it, at the long fingers he knew well and then up to Cas’ face.

“I missed you,” he whispered, bringing his other hand to cover Cas’.

“I know, Dean,” Cas said, “It’s very selfish of me that I’m not entirely devastated by your death, especially given the circumstances and the risk you took...I’ve missed you too, and I can’t help...” Cas looked away wetting his lips, “I’m not happy as to the _how_ , but I am happy you’re here.”

“You too,” Dean smiled, “It was a fifty-fifty, honestly. You managed to piss off the God Squad enough times I wasn’t sure...Hell, I wasn’t sure where _I’d_ end up...but it seems like it’s worked out alright.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I haven’t forgiven you yet.”

“Well, I never figured out how to forgive you for dying either, so looks like we’re even.”

Cas did one of those half-laugh, half-huffing things that usually meant he was surrendering, at least for the moment.

Dean looked down at their hands again, rubbing his thumb over Cas’ knuckles.

“What did you say in your notes?” Cas asked watching Dean’s hand.

“That I was sorry. That I’d tried, but the spot you left was too damn big. That I’d see them again...” Dean shrugged, “Told Sammy I loved him, apologized that I’d never see him as a dad...that one right there nearly stopped me, you know?”

“I imagine it might have.”

“I told Charlie I’d look out for her, that I loved her, sorry I turned out to be such a crap older brother. Thanked her for everything, for being my friend...told her to get wasted and get a good tattoo for me. Not sure how she’s going to beat Leia, but she’s a creative girl...”

Dean felt his brows pull in, and he sighed, “Thing is, Cas, I’ve been living for everyone else my whole life...I didn’t make it to thirty before I was tired of it all...And yeah, there were people that made it worth it, made the days pass after you left...I’ve always heard it was selfish, and yeah, it was...but I never had that luxury, and I figured that maybe it was selfish, but I deserved to finally cash in. Anyway, it’s the only time you’ve ever taken off I’ve had a clue where you might’ve gone. Couldn’t help myself...”

“Did you say all that?” Cas asked.

“Some of it,” Dean shrugged. “Didn’t know how to put it down, ended up saying that you’d run off again and I had to follow that stupid ex-angel bastard to wherever he’d got to,” he chuckled.

“Sam must be devastated,” Cas said.

“Yeah, I imagine so. But he’s got that girl of his and she’s a tough one. She’ll get him through alright. And Charlie...I shouldn’t feel worse for her but in a weird way I do, you know? I got that I couldn’t always protect Sammy, but Charlie’s different...but in a way I think she’ll get it better than Sam. Maybe that’s what hurts.”

They were silent for several moments. Dean continued to slide his thumb over Cas’ knuckles, relishing how normal it felt to sit here with Cas, as if the seemingly endless months preceding had never even happened.

“I haven’t told anyone else, about you being dead, I mean,” Cas said, suddenly. “Only Ash and Bobby know...but I imagine they’d all be pleased to see you, if you want to go see them.”

“Yeah...Yeah I’d like that,” Dean nodded, “Lead the way.”

______________________________________________________________________

They parked the Impala (borrowed from Dean’s heaven) in front of the Roadhouse.

As soon as the door opened, a wave of warm air and friendly conversation washed over him. He looked around, eyes adjusting to the change in light, and found people were already getting out of chairs and climbing out of booths to come closer.

He was pulled into hugs by everyone - Jo, Ash, (who clapped him hard on the back and sniffed, grunting his approval, “Finally made it, Dean-o!”) then Pamela who copped a feel of his ass, Ellen who pulled him in tight - but it wasn’t until Bobby gripped him, whispering gruffly, “It’s good to see you, Dean-” that he really felt like this might all be real. There were a few more people, many whom he recognized and a few he pretended to, before he was face to face with John Winchester.

“Dean,” he said simply, eyes crinkling in a smile.

“Sir?” Dean was aware that all had gone quite quiet around them, but he knew Cas was there. He’d sought the other’s gaze between greetings, and had felt, rather than seen, Cas come up behind him as the crowd had dispersed.

“My boy,” John said, “Come here,” He held his arms out and Dean folded himself into the embrace. It felt...wrong. Odd. The thought came firmly, _this isn’t my dad_. 

It was John Winchester, that was certain...but John hadn’t been Dean’s dad for years - only he was just now realizing. He glanced over at Bobby, recognizing the warmth and trust that flooded his chest. He pulled back, John was gripping at his arms and smiling. “We’ve been waiting for you, son.”

Then John moved to the side and Mary stepped forward, not pausing or hesitating before she reached around him and pulled him close.

“Oh, Dean...” she put a hand behind his head, weaving into his hair, “I’m so sorry, baby.”

Dean couldn’t help the way he tucked into her. He was over fifty, dammit, but he felt four again.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Mom.”

“Oh, but I do,” she said tearfully, pulling back. “I left you, and your brother. I put that demon on the both of you...”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Dean assured, “look, I made it back to you, didn’t I?”

Mary’s eyes filled again with tears and she pulled him in again, “Just let me be sorry for a minute, Dean.”

“You know I love you, right Mom?” He stood to his full height, looking down at her and willing her to believe it. Her head tilted and she reached up to smooth back his hair.

“I don’t deserve it,” She said, “Not a bit. But I accept. You’ve got to let me earn it honestly though, alright Dean?”

“Okay.”

They pulled apart and Mary looked over his shoulder, “Castiel, you knew he was coming, didn’t you?”

Dean glanced behind, where Cas was looking at the ground, “I was made aware, yes. I thought it best to let him decide when to meet you all.”

“That’s very considerate,” Mary had yet to stop staring at or touching Dean. Her fingers would skate over his brow and her eyes would study his shoulders and hands.

She sighed again, “Oh, you’re so grown up.”

“Goin’ on sixty, Mom,” Dean scoffed, but then he looked down and realized his hands weren’t old. he looked around, caught sight of a mirror and found that although he wasn’t young, really, he wasn’t quite old yet, either. He looked back at his parents, to find their faces drawn and serious.

“Not even sixty?” John asked, his face pale.

“What happened?” Mary asked, a hand to her heart.

“I...uh...went in my sleep, I guess, Met a pretty reaper and decided to hitch a ride.”

Mary pursed her lips, then pulled him in for another hug, “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Dean chuckled, “Awfully gloomy, it’s like you don’t want me here.”

She swatted his arm, “Of course we do, Dean. Welcome home.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, resting his chin on her head, smiling at the smell of her hair, “Thanks.”

______________________________________________________________________

 

They were all packed tight into a booth, anyone who didn’t fit sat on a chair next to the table, or leaned over a partition to hear what Dean had been up to.

“So, we got the bone, soaked it in the blood of the three, and shishkabob’d Dick.”

Jo whistled, Bobby looked ridiculously proud and John’s eyebrows were raised, impressed. Mary’s expression danced about, disappointment and sadness. Dean did his best to remember that she wasn’t disappointed in _him_. She’d wanted differently for him, and he could understand.

“Yeah, except turns out we were standing in the splash zone for free fast passes to Purgatory...”

“ _Purgatory?_ ” John asked.

Ash’s mouth was loose around a beer bottle, like he’d forgotten he was holding it.

“Dean, Dean,” Pamela grinned around her own drink, “How are you always getting things you’re not supposed to?”

Dean winked at her, then turned to Cas, sitting directly to his left, “Didn’t you tell them anything?”

“It seemed to make more sense to wait for you. They’re your family,” he said calmly.

Ellen reached over and swatted Cas’ head, “Watch your mouth, boy. You’re family too.”

Dean saw Cas smile even as his head ducked in apology, “Of course.”

“So...Purgatory...” John asked, leaning over the table, clearly interested in getting the conversation back on track.

Dean’s brows pulled together and he thought of everything, of looking for Cas, of Benny...

And suddenly, Dean realized that he’d never see Benny...ever. Benny was a vampire and wouldn’t have a place here...his throat squeezed tight and suddenly he couldn’t breath. 

“Dean?” Cas hand was on his back and he was leaning in close, voice alarmed. “Dean, what’s the matter?”

Everyone at the table was staring. Dean coughed and looked over in Cas’ eye. “You start this one, alright...I gotta get some air.” He got out of the booth and felt eyes on him as he left, grabbing a beer from the bar and pushing the door open to get outside. 

It was dusk, now. Dean leaned against the side of the Impala and popped the lid of his beer.

He’d known Benny was gone. Hell, he’d done the deed. But to see his family collected around him...Benny should be here, he _was_ family, he belonged at that table as much as any of the rest, and more than some...

The beer was cool and perfect. Perks of heaven, Dean figured. The injustice of the whole arrangement stabbed at his conscience. He could almost see Benny, standing right there in front of him, big and powerful and gentle. His eyes would be too kind, too forgiving.

_It’s all right, brother. You just go on. I’ll find my way, you know me. I always do. ‘Sides, you’re prone to rule breakin’...Maybe you’ll see me again after all._

Dean stared at the ground, nodding and letting the tears fall without wiping them away.

Some time later, the door opened and a strip of warm light fell onto the lot, mostly eclipsed by a figure stepping through before it closed.

“Dean?” Jo stepped around the car and leaned next to him. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, “Just...thinking, I guess.”

“About?”

Dean scuffed his boot against the ground, “This friend of mine.”

“Hasn’t made his way this side of the veil yet?”

“Nah, he’s dead. Did it myself, in fact.”

Jo turned to him, “Who?”

“Well he wasn’t human, so he didn’t end up here.”

“Ah...Benny.”

Dean turned sharply to her, “How’d you -”

“Cas just told us,” Jo studied him for a moment, “Said he was good to you...John near ‘bout choked,” she laughed, “So, you two were close?”

“Like brothers,” Dean affirmed, cursing himself as he felt his eyes prickle. “Loyal to a fault...stupid son of a bitch should have known better than to mix up with me.”

“Mixing up with you has its perks,” Jo shrugged.

“Seriously?” Dean asked incredulously, “Last time I checked I got you mauled by a hellhound.”

Jo shrugged again. “You know that’s not your fault, Dean. Not everything’s about you, Dean-o,” she sing-songed.

Dean rolled his eyes and took a swig. “I mean, we never even...”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” Jo laughed, then studied him for a moment. “You’re different. Happy.”

“Wasn’t yesterday,” Dean said, “Or didn’t you catch the bit where I did myself in?”

“Yeah, and I suggest you keep that one a bit more quiet before your parents figure it out. You’re happier than when I was alive,” she insisted. “You’re at ease, Dean...it’s not, I don’t know, just _dealing_ , like you were. You’re calm, peaceful, almost. And it’s not just the whole death and Heaven thing talking. You’re...different.”

“If you say so,” Dean shrugged.

“It’s Cas, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You two...you have any idea what it’s like to be in the same room as you?” Jo raised her eyebrows.

Dean shrugged.

“The way you move around each other - it’s more than familiar. You haven’t said more than a few words to him, but the way you react to each other’s body language and expressions...” She laughed, “I mean you say more to him than you’ve said to any of us without opening your mouth. It’s...” she shook her head, looking for a word, “It’s kind of amazing - seeing you like that with somebody.”

“Cas is...”

“Yeah, I figured,” Jo said, pulling the beer from his hand and taking a swig. “Knew you had it in you, Winchester.”

Dean laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “That obvious, huh?”

“Maybe not to everyone,” Jo said, “It’s not like Cas would out you. I think Bobby suspects. You’re gonna have to tell your daddy, though - have fun with that.”

“Technically I’ve done harder things.”

“Hm. Why don’t you come inside and tell us all. Poor Castiel’s stuck in there and frankly he’s not as good at pawning off traumatic experiences for laughs.”

“Alright, kiddo.” Dean swung an arm around her and they went back inside.

______________________________________________________________________

He may have looked calm to a casual viewer, but Dean could see the lines of panic written into Cas’ posture, into his eyes. Dean slid in next to him, and felt him relax.

“Sorry,” he said to the table at large. “Bit much, all at once, you know?”

“Castiel was just telling us about Benny,” John said, a hard line to his voice. “The vampire?”

Dean blinked at his father, incredulity making his blood boil. “You mean the part where he helped me find Cas and found the way to get my sorry ass out of Jurassic Park?”

“And rode you out like a meat suit,” John pushed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t explain very effectively,” Cas said softly, “I didn’t mean to give the wrong impression.”

“No, you gave the right impression,” John assured, nose twitching. “I’d just like to hear Dean explain this one.”

Dean raised his chin and looked at his father squarely. “Benny Lafitte saved our asses in Purgatory. So he had a price. Who cares? He was loyal, he was a brother to me and I count him family as much as any of you - And you know what else?” Dean leaned forward, “When Sammy got stuck in Purgatory, Benny let me _kill_ him. He went back for Sammy - even though Sam _hated_ him - and made sure Benny knew it. He got Sammy out and stayed behind - in _Purgatory_ , where he’d done his bit of slashing to keep us safe and he wasn’t welcomed back nicely, so I suggest you think twice about what you _think_ you know about Benny.”

Dean was nearly panting and only belatedly noticed the hand on his leg. His heart jumped, fearful, in the draining anger, that his father would see. But Cas’ gesture was subtle. 

“Don’t sugarcoat it,” Pamela mumbled.

“Alright,” John’s brows lifted, and put his hands up and sat back. “I won’t disparage his name. I’m sorry, Dean.”

“It’s alright,” Dean said, the words coming out automatically as he looked down, feeling the red creep up his neck.

“So, you both got out of Purgatory through this portal?” Ellen asked.

“Just me...” Dean said uneasily. “Cas...didn’t make it the first round.”

“I was pulled from Purgatory by angels some time later,” Cas said. “I was...reprogrammed, you might say, controlled to one extent or another depending on the task at hand...”

They continued, one talking and the other filling in the gaps, an unspoken understanding of what to skip over and what to address clear between them. No one else needed to know how close Cas had come to killing Dean, no one else needed to know what had been said. The unease of their reunion, both after the crypt and after Cas’ fall didn’t need to be spelled out. Cas told about his life alone before he had found his path crossed with the Winchesters’ once again, placing hand on Dean’s leg. Dean told about the research they’d done, how they used Crowley’s knowledge and the Bunker’s extensive collection to piece together a plan, how Sam had done it, had closed the gates. They told about working with the more diplomatic angels and fighting the less cooperative ones (most of whom just really wanted Cas’ head burning on a stake), the attempts to get them back into heaven and the demise of Metatron.

“I decided to stay, in the end,” Castiel said simply, after that part of the story was finished, and Dean could have laughed. It was never so simple as that. Those seven words didn’t cover it by a long shot.

“Sammy went back to Stanford,” Dean said, “Got his degree, met a girl - been with her a few years now.”

“What’s her name?” Mary asked.

“Jessie. Real spitfire- you’d like her,” he said, nodding to his father too. “Got a dog too...frankly I don’t know which one he’s happier about, Jessie or the mutt.”

“And you?” Mary asked. “It’s been how many years since all that?”

“Ten or fifteen,” Dean shrugged, “Just doing simple jobs. Without demons crawling everywhere we got back on track on the monster front. For a while the bunker was a sort of base. Garth came in and we organized the whole damn hunting community,” Dean smiled. “Had people in and out. Survivors, hunters in training, a few stupid kids, it was good. We all looked out for each other, you know?” Dean sighed, “But we were too good, apparently. It wasn’t so much of a fight anymore because we were kicking everything’s ass. Jobs got scarce and people had to get normal lives. The two of us took on the few hunts in the area,” he nodded over to Cas. “Then the stupid son of a bitch got himself killed, but I s’pose we all knew that.”

There was a moment of silence, which was weird, because it wasn’t like they weren’t _all_ dead but Dean shook his head and plowed on. “And now I’m here, so the fun’s officially arrived,” he said dryly, taking a swig. “Give it a few decades and we’ll get Sammy too. You ought to see him these days - big as a house and stupid long hair he keeps in a ponytail,” he chuckled.

“So the two of you have been holed up in the Men of Letters bunker around a decade,” John said blandly, pointing between Dean and Cas.

“I wouldn’t say holed up.” Dean shrugged, looking over at Cas, “We took plenty of road trips, saw some pretty cool stuff I didn’t bother with when I was elbow deep in demons and skinwalkers and the like. Lived alright,” he nodded.

Cas smiled back at him, and it was warm, and felt so right to sit there next to Cas while he told his family about his life. Just as it was right to sit with Cas in the bunker, or in a diner, or in the front seat of the Impala. Cas _was_ home, now.

Cas glanced away for just a moment, uneasiness coming over him and Dean turned away too, aware of a steady gaze on him. It was John, brow set as he looked between Dean and Cas.

“Just the two of you.” 

Dean didn’t know if it was a statement or a question. Pamela had an eyebrow raised, tapping her beer against her lower lip.

“Dean, be a dear and get another case from the back, would you?” Ellen cut in. “Cas, why don’t you lend him a hand with the door?”

Dean breathed in relief as he slid away, Cas at his side. They went back to the store room and as soon as the door was closed, Dean had turned back to face Cas and Cas had reached forward for him. They clutched at each other, just breathing, for several moments, before Dean tucked his head against Cas’ neck, chuckling humorlessly.

“He’s such a dick,” he breathed.

“He has his struggles,” Cas said, a hand sliding up to weave through the hair on the back of Dean’s head, “But yes, I’m inclined to agree with you in this particular instance.”

Dean laughed and pulled back slightly. “You know I love the shit out of you, right?”

“Charming,” Cas rolled his eyes, “Yes, I do know. You were always very good at reminding me. I love you too, Dean.”

“Don’t you forget it,” Dean leaned forward, kissing Cas softly.

“Dean?” Cas said.

“Yeah?”

“...I haven’t been able to find my ring. It wasn’t on me when I arrived, and I’ve looked everywhere...”

Dean stepped back, and reached for a chain around his neck and pulled it out from under his shirt. Cas’ eyes widened at the two simple bands looped beside each other at the end of the chain.

“Had to burn your body,” Dean said quietly, “and it didn’t feel right to wear mine. Not like...like I didn’t want people to know - I just couldn’t stand looking at it on my hand when yours wasn’t with you...So I put ‘em together.”

Cas’ voice shook slightly, “Can we put them back on?”

Dean looked at Cas carefully, saw his blue eyes too bright with tears, saw the way his nostrils were flaring out and collapsing as he tried to stay composed, how his hands shook.

“Yeah,” Dean whispered, “I think we’d better do that.”

“When you’re ready,” Cas said carefully, “If you’re uncomfortable -”

But Dean was pulling the chain over his head, unhooking the back and sliding the rings into his hand.

“I didn’t rush over here just to get squeamish about this, Cas.”

“Are you sure?” Cas asked.

Dean reached for his Cas’ left hand and slid the band onto the ring finger. Cas’ hand caught his left, and held out the other expectantly. Dean grinned and handed the other band over, which Cas placed in turn.

“Till death do us part, my ass,” scoffed Dean.

“The State is woefully unaware of how things really work, but I suppose it’s better that they understand their jurisdiction.”

“ _Jurisdiction_ , my ass,” Dean countered.

“There are plenty of people besides you that respect the laws of the land,” Cas rolled his eyes.

“You love it.”

“I do,” Cas shrugged, but his smile grew large and genuine. “Truly, Dean.”

“They’ll be wondering...” Dean said sadly. He loved his family but he wanted to be with Cas, just Cas, for now.

“Of course,” Cas reached for another case of beer and handed it to Dean, then held the door open for them to exit.

“Sorry,” Dean apologized as he set the beer down, “just reminiscing. And you’re a tough crowd, you know that?” He was greeted by guffaws and titters, “Need a break and I only just got here.”

He and Cas slid back into their spots and Dean felt the security of his ring all too comforting as he was faced with his father again. He looked around, getting the distinct feeling that there had been involved conversation taking place right before he came back. Everyone was looking nervously between he and Cas and John again, and so Dean turned to meet his father’s eyes.

John’s gaze flicked from Dean to Cas, then back, before they narrowed, and he sat back, pursing his lips.

“Funny, Dean, I never would have pegged you for a fa-”

_**THWACK!** _

Everyone started at looked over at Bobby, who’d slammed his hand down on the table and stood in a swift movement.

“Finish that, John, and so help me I will _find a way_ end you,” Bobby growled.

Everyone was scarily silent, and Mary put a hand against John’s shoulder when his eyes grew wide and his sharp gaze swerved madly to his old friend.

“That’s _my_ son, Singer,” he ground out.

For probably the first time ever, Dean missed Cas’ transporting abilities.

“The _hell_ he is,” Bobby spat, and as John opened his mouth again Bobby cut across him, “Dean’s the best man I know, and that’s in _spite_ of you, John. You abandoned him for your righteous revenge bullshit and left him to grow up on his own! You made a boy in the single digits raise a baby! He shouldn’t be able to _feel_ after what you did to him, he shoulda been a machine by the time you left him in the dust for the last time! After all the times you let him down -” 

Bobby was breathing hard, “Your son loves harder and more fiercely than anyone I know in the whole damn world and not one iota of that can be chocked up to your A+ parenting skills,” he said, “You’ve got no right to any kind of opinion on who he loves, or who loves him! I’ve never seen him so happy in his own skin than he is next to our Cas, and if you were a _fraction_ of the man you pretended to be you’d stow your puritanical _bullshit_ and be grateful that he was stronger than you ever were! ‘Cause in _spite_ of you, John, Dean here figured it out. Don’t matter what the hell you do if you don’t love honestly.”

Dean had to collect himself and remember to breathe, looking around to make sure they’d all witnessed the same thing he had.

John’s venomous glare had fled, leaving him pale and small.

Ash and Jo were staring at Bobby with their mouths open, Mary was crying silently, staring at the table like she couldn't bear to look at anyone. Ellen stood, her husband behind her, looking satisfied. Dean probably looked like an idiot, gaping around at all of them.

“I think that’s enough excitement to be gettin’ on with for a while.” Ellen cut in. “Cas, why don’t you go on and get Dean home?” 

“Dean?” Cas asked, touching his arm. Dean looked over, feeling dazed.

“Hey...” his voice hitched around concern as he saw the tears streaked down Cas’ face. “Cas?” But Cas just shook his head minutely and Dean nodded, “Yeah, okay...let’s go.” They stood up and Dean nodded at the table, most of the occupants still stupefied. He looked at his father, for just a moment before Cas’ hand came to rest at his elbow, urging him gently forward. 

Dean thought he’d never seen anyone look so...he couldn’t even define it. Deflated, pale, terrible. Mary, next to him, looked no better, and Dean tried to smile, but it came out lopsided and more like a grimace.

“Dean,” Cas urged quietly. He let himself be led outside, pulled the keys from his pocket and was about to get in when the backdoor of the Roadhouse opened and Bobby’s silhouette shadowed the lot.

He didn’t say a word as he came up to Dean and yanked him into a hug. “I meant every damn word, son, and don’t you dare forget. Don’t you let that rat-bastard have one millimeter of peace at your expense. It’s time for him to face it, Dean. So you stand up and be proud of the man you’ve become.”

Dean nodded into Bobby’s shoulder, chin trembling. “Thank you,” he rasped. “I couldn't have...not the way he came at it...”

“I know, boy,” Bobby said, pulling away and cupping Dean’s face in his hand. “I know. That’s what I’m here for - gotta step in when someone tries to hurt my kid.”

Dean nodded, blinking hard as tears fell.

“He may yet be your daddy, one day. But you’ve been my boy for years, Dean. I love your stupid hide more than if’n you were mine.”

Dean buried himself in Bobby’s jacket again. “Thank you, Bobby.”

Bobby just gripped him and squeezed, before he stepped back, patted Dean’s face and smiled.

Dean’s hand gripped Bobby’s and, Bobby squinted for a moment at their hands, then rolled his eyes, pulled away and walked back into the Roadhouse, calling back behind him, “You take care, and I expect a renewal of vows since I missed the first ‘round!”

Dean laughed and slid onto the leather bench, looking over at Cas, who was finally wiping away his own tears.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

Cas nodded. “Bobby is a very good man.”

“That he is,” Dean said, turning the key in the ignition and feeling a thrum of satisfaction as the engine purred, thinking distractedly that in heaven he probably never even had to change the oil.

______________________________________________________________________

Dean had sort of wondered how the whole heaven thing would work out. Obviously he didn’t really have a body anymore...he was just a soul, bobbing around in the vicinity of other souls and projecting his own reality into his undefined mental space. If a soul could have that. It was basically like being alive, though. Probably because he had Cas and his family. Dean couldn’t imagine heaven would be anything worth seeing if it was just happy memories, even the best ones. Nothing quite beat the real thing.

Cas was playing the piano in the room adjacent to the library, and the notes filtered into the kitchen. Dean smiled.

The recordings hadn’t been the same as when Cas played - the pauses, the emphasis, the pace and treatment of notes was like a fingerprint, and Dean had known Cas’ too well to be really satisfied by the alternatives.

But really it just felt like they’d been plopped back on earth. They ate, they slept, they went out and stayed in and watched movies and everything they’d always done. Maybe because they chose it like that. A memory would wander in, every so often - once the phone rang, Sam calling to tell him about Stanford and Dean just smiled, letting Sam talk while he against the doorway.

He missed Sam, he was man enough to admit that. There were even times he almost regretted leaving, times that he felt the stab of guilt for letting Sam down, for not being strong enough. But then he thought of Cas, and heard him play the probably-not-really-there piano and felt calm.

A knock echoed through the bunker from the front door. Dean wiped his hands off and went to answer it. 

Outside stood John. It was the first time Dean had seen John since the incident at the roadhouse, but he still couldn’t help the way his shoulders snapped back at at attention.

“Dad.”

“You gotta minute?”

Dean almost laughed, “Dead as a doornail, Dad. Yeah, I’ve got a minute.” But he didn’t invite John in, rather, stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind him. John backed up. They walked up the steps, to the paved driveway.

Dean waited for his father to speak, trying to relax his shoulders and neck and remember what Bobby had said, _Don’t let that rat-bastard have one millimeter of peace at your expense_...

“I owe you an apology,” John said.

“You think?” Dean scoffed, then he felt his stomach drop. What was he doing? He’d never talked to his Dad before like he had since dying and _holy shit_ was he asking for it!

John coughed, “I never thought...I didn’t expect you to be...”

“Yeah, you had plenty of expectations, didn’t you?” Dean said, “It took me a long time to realize just how many of them were total bullshit.”

“Dean,” John’s voice was stern, his jaw set.

“No,” Dean shook his head, something like courage welling up in his chest. “Not at my house.”

“I’m your father.”

“And I don’t care!” Dean shouted, and John looked taken aback, “I used to - I cared so damn much about making you happy, doing what you told me, making sure I never stepped a toe out of line...I wanted to be like you,” Dean felt his face twisting, his hands clenching into fists “I thought that if I could just be more like you...then I’d be a man...” He laughed, and turned away. “Boy, was I wrong.”

“Dean...”

“Look,” Dean turned back to his father and looked him squarely in the eye, “You’re my father, and I have loved you my whole life - and so I’ll forgive you, when I’m good and ready. But I’m not gonna hand it over easy. It’s not on your terms anymore. I grew up and learned a few things about how to treat people, and I know...I know now that we deserved better than what you gave us, Sammy and me... _I_ deserved better.” John looked away. “You know, I wrote it off to mom dying for years...” Dean shook his head, “But that’s no excuse to pass off bullying as parenting. None at all. You had us, still. You should have let her go, and _been_ there for us. _That_ was your job.”

John nodded, “I’m sorry I failed you, Dean.”

Dean lifted his chin, folding his arms and observed his father’s face carefully.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t better to you.”

Dean shook his head. “No, you’re not. Not yet. Because you don’t get it yet...You know why I’m with Cas - hell, why I _married_ him?”

John’s eyes bulged and his mouth moved over the word married silently.

“Yeah. I married him,” Dean said proudly, “Says Castiel Winchester on the certificate, maybe I’ll show you sometime - But it’s because we trust each other. Because we didn’t pretend to be anything besides what we were - we figured out hiding our weaknesses didn’t make us any stronger - he _knows_ me, Dad. And I know him, and I know what he’s thinking without him saying a word -and he knows when somethin’s up with me - half the time it’s before even I know! And you tell me that’s not worth holding onto,” Dean challenged, his chest swelling. “‘Cause I can go all day. He’s my family, and we chose each other, for forever. Period.”

John looked like he’d just climbed out of a nasty, ten-car pile-up.

“Well,” he croaked out, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, “I suppose you’ve got yourself all figured out without me in the picture.”

“It’s not about you, Dad,” Dean ground out, “I’d like you to be around. I’d like to get to know you as a man, I’d like you to be a part of my afterlife, or whatever. But that means we don’t bullshit each other. If you can’t handle it, I’ll choose him, don’t doubt that for a second...But I’d rather you stuck around and saw why.”

John nodded, “I’m sorry I hurt you, Dean - at Ellen’s...” he shook his head. “I thought all my regrets would be behind me but I was wrong. And I am sorry.”

He was telling the truth, Dean knew it. John didn’t understand but the air around him buzzed with the effort of trying to grasp the whammy of a plot twist Dean had handed him.

“It’s alright,” Dean said.

“Your mother tore me a new one, you know...She’s pretty fond of Castiel. Not that we know him all that well - he’s kept pretty quiet - but she liked him...When he first showed up - well, he left the story pretty barebones until you came - I thought...well, I thought the two of you were just hunting buddies - like Pastor Jim or Bobby. But then he was different, with you here. And you were so...I feel like I don’t even know you anymore...That’s what set me off most.”

“Dad, I don’t think I ever _let_ you know me,” Dean shrugged. “And that’s on me, as well. I was never as good at being honest with you as Sam was.”

“Didn’t make me listen any better,” John said.

Dean shook his head, “Quit beating yourself up. Yeah, you screwed the pooch pretty bad. But it’s over, so be here now. Be my dad now...I can handle it if you can,” he extended a hand.

John laughed, shaking his head, and clapping their hands together, “Dammit, Dean. You’re somethin’ else, aren’t you?”

“I like to think so.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Dean slid onto the empty side of the bench before the piano, careful not to nudge Cas.

He knew Cas kept the bench slightly to the side, sat on one end so that Dean could sit next to him if he wanted to. The least he could do was sit still.

Cas’ fingers were telling a story - one he’d need the time to find the words for, or maybe for one he’d never say, but that was one of the reasons Dean loved it so much. He loved that this old hunk of wood and ivory and whatever the hell else pianos were made of gave Cas a voice that his tongue didn’t always allow. 

Those hands, skating and bouncing over and tenderly touching down on keys told him when Cas missed his Grace, when he felt alone in his own mind, when he had nightmares, when he was happy, when he was joyous, and when he was particularly in love with Dean. Those songs were his favorite, obviously. But he was profoundly grateful to the others, cluing him in and removing the confusion and helplessness that had so often plagued them.

Today, the story was unsure. It wandered and wondered, tipping into hopeful notes before slipping back into tentative questioning. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the question, but Dean waited until Cas’ fingers slowed on the piano to move or speak.

“It’s alright,” Dean assured, reaching forward to run his fingers down a white key, before he turned to smile at Cas, “Told him where to stick his crap. I think he’ll come round though.”

Cas nodded, pressing a few keys down in a gentle succession.

“Cas?”

Cas’ lips pressed together and his eyebrows raised slightly, but he didn’t look away from his hand on the piano.

“Hey...” Dean took Cas’ left hand and wound their fingers together. “Hey, look at me...”

Cas licked his lips, bit the lower and then turned to Dean, his gaze lagging, hesitant.

“Cas...”

Cas sighed and looked at Dean, uncertainty in his pursed lips and unsteady brow.

“It’s just my Dad, Cas. He was always going to be a dick about this. You didn’t do anything wrong, alright? You shouldn’t have to change this -” he motioned between them, “- on account of him. He doesn’t know you like I do, and he doesn’t know me like _you_ do. You were there for me and put me at ease and took care of me, alright? That’s all I ever wanted from you...You good?”

Cas nodded, huffing.

“What?” Dean asked.

“This is all very foolish,” Cas said, patting their intertwined hands before pulling his away and placing them on the piano.

“Sorry,” Dean said, and then leaned in and kissed Cas on the corner of his jaw. “Perk of being married, I guess: the _in-laws_.”

“You’re worth it.”

“Am I?” Dean set his chin on Cas’ shoulder.

“In my experience, yes.”

“Good. You too.”

Cas looked over and smiled at him, the one with crinkled eyes and teeth, and Dean couldn’t help pushing in, kissing his cheek and lips and running a finger under his jaw.

Cas hummed against Dean’s lips and then pulled back. “I’m practicing,” he said sternly. 

“Spoil sport,” Dean teased, sitting back, “Hey, what’s that one you used to play...?”

Cas’ eyes focused, his head tilting and Dean could almost see him rifling through the files in his mind, the moment he found the one he was looking for. Cas’ eyes brightened and turned back to the piano, hands finding their position and pressing gently on a few chords on the left side of the piano, before his right hand moved over, flirting with a few trilling notes on the other end, before the rest of the notes came rushing in like a waterfall.

Dean grinned, the familiarity sending thrills down his limbs and making goosebumps appear on his arm. He watched Cas’ hands and face, his body as he rocked forward and back, furling his brows and then smiling and everything he did was so twined with the song, Dean could only stare in wonder.

The end of the song was satisfying, familiar and thrilling all at once. And when Cas’ hands lifted off the final note, they hung, just a moment in the air, before pulling back and resting in his lap.

Dean pushed his own hand into Cas’ left, and together they sat silently for a long while.

**Author's Note:**

> The song Cas plays at the end for Dean is _Knowing Smile_ , by Christian Antonius. I’d highly recommend a listen; it made me cry.
> 
> The title of this fic is from Johnny Cash's _Will You Meet Me in Heaven?_


End file.
